


i'll be your shelter, i'll be your storm

by minjisung



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, changbin appears for a literal second, consequential events that leads to nothing but fluff, mention of parental abuse, nothing detailed tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 10:11:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16344827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minjisung/pseuds/minjisung
Summary: He's really weak to beauty, Minho thinks. But in the end, he knows Chan is more than that.





	i'll be your shelter, i'll be your storm

**Author's Note:**

> **song** : [be your everything](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ye4y0rAFtws) \- boys like girls  
> i'm only here to deliver the domestic chanho no one asked for

Minho and Chan ran in the pouring rain, their clothes and hair soaking wet. 

“My apartment is closer. Let’s just go there” Minho told Chan, who just nodded and didn’t complain. It was obvious by the way he was shaking that he was cold, very cold.

They don't know each other, or not yet, at least. It was supposed to be a group meeting, a meet up between friends who met each other in the internet, who happens to live a bus ride away from each other. But instead of six people showing up, only two did.

Once inside, Minho helps him take off his wet coat. Quickly, he rushes into the laundry area to get a couple of dry towels. He hands one to Chan as he help him get dry and does the same to himself afterwards. The both of them were relatively drier than before but is still wet and cold. Minho allows him to dry himself up as he got some warm clothes for him to wear for the moment. 

As he heads back out, he finds Chan taking off his shirt. His eyes unconsciously land on his defined torso. Suddenly, he notices Chan staring at him, and for some strange reason, felt his cheeks burning.  _ Good job, you fucking creep. _

“I hope these fits you..” He quickly says as he hands the clothes to him with his eyes glued to his feet, unable to meet Chan's gaze out of pure embarrassment. “I’ll go change now.”   


* * *

 

Albeit living around the same area, Minho haven't found the opportunity to conveniently bump into Chan on his daily commute to and from his part-time job. Not that he spends every living minute looking out for the particular brunette—and even if he does, it was to no avail. 

That is until he receives a call from Changbin.

"Hyung, I'm coming in." Minho announces, pushing the door open just as Chan pulls it from the other side, surprising him completely. "Sorry, I thought you'd be in bed, being sick and all."

"Was it Changbin?" The older male croaks from the other side, coughing into his sleeves. Minho nods. Normally he wouldn't barge into someone's home unannounced, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Chan is sick, and from the way Changbin described it from the phone call he received, he sounds terribly weak and in need of human assistance. "He overreacted. I'm fine." He says, stuffy nose changing his voice.

"I didn't take two buses to get here just so you could kick me out."

"What are you gonna do if I let you in?" Chan sneezes, arching back as he expels whatever was clogging up his nose onto his sleeves.

"Take care of you, what else?" Minho states, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. And it was. "Now may I come in? Or do I have to break down your door, because I can and I  _ will _ —"

"You don't have to do that." Minho's already taking off his shoes, setting them in the entryway as he steps into the older male's apartment. Chan huffs and steps back, allowing him to enter. "I already said I'm fine—"

"Have you eaten today? I'll make you something, okay?" He watches the other lethargically make his way to the couch, letting his eyes close as he rolls on his side. Chan nods, only then accepting the fact that Minho isn't going anywhere.

* * *

 

At some point, Minho accepts that he's completely, entirely, and incredibly in love with Bang Chan. 

And it scares him. 

His lack of confidence and insecurities makes him overwhelmingly nervous to the point where he thinks he might drown in his own feelings. Minho has had his fair share of guys, but he knows how to handle them on a fundamental level. To them, he can present himself exactly how he wants to be seen without any concerns. But Chan is unknown territory he wants to mark, yet too terrified to explore.

"Hey."

"Hm?" Minho turns his head to look at the reason for his pondering and owner of his undying affection, only to find him inches away from his face. He exhales a breath he didn't even know he's holding in, feeling the pads of Chan's fingers down his jaw, skin soft and unmarred. 

"Can I kiss you?" was said, seconds before their lips meet.

Minho cranes his chin that extra centimeter, surprising Chan and initiating the kiss. He shuts his eyes and focuses on the feeling of their lips together; albeit a bit tense, nothing has felt more  _ right _ . He runs his fingers through Chan's tousled locks, moving his hands down and eventually resting them comfortably on his shoulder. 

"I think I'm in love with you."

He could feel his breath on his lips, the sheer emotion of it made his cheeks burn and body sweat and he has no idea why those words just left his mouth. He has his eyes shut tight the entire time, unsure of what to expect. All he knows is that this isn't part of the scenario he's replayed over and over in his mind's eye, like a worn out VHS tape.

But the smile Chan presses on his lips afterwards makes this better than any daydream. 

"How many more times do I have to kiss you for you to be sure?"

"Let's find out."

* * *

 

The first night it happened, Minho was sure it was going to be a forever sort of thing.

He was wrapped up in all things Chan: his scent, his warm skin, and he could even hear his heartbeat if he listened closely enough. It was hard to imagine that they went from friends to this - whatever this was - and now here they were lying in the afterglow. He was used to nights spent at each other’s houses watching stupid movies until four in the morning and gorging themselves on ice cream and Doritos. He wasn’t used to  _ this _ , but boy was it welcome.

Chan stirs and Minho smiles, pressing closer and kissing along his neck. He’s been watching the other as he slept, a thing he used to find creepy, but he guessed it was because he’d never experienced this feeling before. When Chan rolls against him and let his arms fall all over Minho, he chuckles and jabs at the other’s ribs. “Wake up, hyung.”

To this, Chan grumbles and wraps his arms around the smaller Minho, burying his face in his hair. “Five more minutes.”

And Minho lets him, because for the first time in his life, he felt complete.

* * *

 

Minho considers himself lucky, in the overall scheme of things. He grew up with a loving family that managed to provide him his needs and sometimes wants, whereas Chan had to fend for himself throughout most of his childhood, growing up with the bitter taste of loneliness. And although he didn't up like his sibling who was driven to s corner of insanity, the bruises on his body tells a story of its own.

Often he remembers that he was  _ there _ when it happened, and even if he escaped unscathed, he's painfully aware that Chan did not. And now that he can't imagine a life without him, Minho would sometimes dream dark, horrid dreams. Dreams of finding the older male's unconscious body, of him being broken and reduced to nothing.

And then he remembers how Chan fought; for  _ them _ , and for himself. 

Living together bettered his recovery, but Minho's aware he won't be completely whole again. It pains him, mostly, catching Chan fall into a state of silence wearing an empty expression, almost unrecognizable from his usual cheerful demeanor. 

"I'm glad I met you." Chan says absently one day, fingers tangled in Minho's brown locks while he searches for something to watch on the television. "You help me, so much."

"I did?" He asks with genuine surprise, resting his head against Chan's broad shoulder.

"You  _ do, _ " he corrects "Just by staying with me, scars and all."

* * *

 

It's late at night and Minho finds himself in the kitchen, idly tossing food around the pan, wondering how Eggs Benedict got its' name and what should he do to get a food named after him, when the door clicks open. He hears Chan's tired shuffling on the floor, reminding him to get a new pair of indoor slippers since the one they have now squeaks too much. What he doesn't hear, however, is Chan entering the kitchen and slipping his arms around his waist.

"Smells good.."

"Me or the food?" he asks, turning his head to plant a kiss on his cheek "Be careful with your answer."

"Mmm" Minho's used to Chan's clinginess at this point, but what he'll  _ never _ get used to is the way he press kisses down the slope of his neck, which always send shivers down his spine. "You."

"Are you insulting my cooking?"

"...Fuck. I missed the chance to say 'what's cooking, good-looking?'"

* * *

 

Weekends are Minho's favorite days of the week.

It's when neither of them have work. It's when he can wake up freely to the warmth of the sun filtering through the cracks of their shades rather than his blaring alarm. Chan often makes noises of protest when Minho starts shifting, stretching, and preparing to get up, greedily latching onto him unconsciously. To this Minho could only curl one arm against the skin of his waist, the other fixing whatever mess of bed head he's got going on for him.

He lets his eyes drink in the view before him, from the way Chan's eyelashes fan against the pale skin of his cheeks, to the way his lips part ever so slightly as he breathes. He's really weak to beauty, Minho thinks. But in the end, he knows Chan is more than that.

"Mornin'." He mumbles. There was a short attempt to open his eyes before he closes them again, wiggling closer to Minho and burying his face into his neck.

"Go back to sleep hyung, you need your rest."

"What, so you can stare at me like a creep?"

"I can't even see your face." Minho laughs, feeling Chan smile into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

* * *

 

Time pulled them apart, pushed them away and put them on separate paths. Minho was powerless to stop it, his protests useless against the ebb and flow of life. The warmth that had lingered for so long was gone like a soft whisper lost to a dark night.

There came a point when Minho wondered if he was ever going to see Chan again. His smile and laugh was still very much alive in his memories, only he hadn’t seen the real thing in months. 

Then one day,  _ it changed _ .

It was a rough day, with Minho carrying around his hollow heart like dead weight in his chest. He was just leaving his apartment when he felt warm arms enclose around him and a gentle, familiar voice in his ear, like a warm breeze telling him the words he'd been waiting to hear.

"I'm home."

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked this. it's mostly self-indulgent.  
> shameless promo check out my other fics. xo


End file.
